


When Agents Become Victims

by boredom



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Spencer Reid, Gen, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Derek, Stalking, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23595142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredom/pseuds/boredom
Summary: Reid's first two years of college were tumultuous. Not because of his mother or being in an unfamiliar place, but because of a stalker. Luckily for him, he disappeared. Unluckily for him, the stalker is back.Will the team figure out who is behind this before their resident genius gets hurt? Or will they be helpless to protect one of their own?Trigger warning: Stalking, kidnapping, discussion of pedophilia, basically anything that might be found in a normal CM episode
Comments: 206
Kudos: 904





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am on a roll with writing! I hope everyone enjoys this fic and it distracts you just a little bit. Remember to heed the warnings and stay safe.

It had been a long day. Then again, most days were long now that Reid was working in the BAU. He wasn't used to this level of hard work. Sure, he could still hammer out reports faster than anyone else, but his intelligence did not necessarily speed up the process of hunting down unsubs. He did his best, they all did, but at the end of the day there was only so much facts and logic could do. He knew this, of course. He didn't expect working with one of the top units in the FBI would be comparable to his high school biology class, but it was different. The workload was different and his mind was working in different ways to compensate. 

At least he was going to get back to his apartment at a reasonable time tonight. 

The metro was rocking back and forth. His eyes slipped closed more than once. His head fell forward and then he snapped it back up. He was so tired, he couldn't wait to collapse into bed. No reading tonight, just sweet, sweet sleep. Maybe he should eat dinner first. Did he even have anything in his fridge? Maybe he should order take-out then. 

His stop came and he got off, still debating whether he should skip dinner and go straight to bed, or stay up for another hour, eat, and then go to bed. He could see his building in the distance. He could see the lights on each floor, signalling who was home and who wasn’t. 

He paused at the enterance. Something felt...off. He looked around, trying to see if there was anyone else on the street with him. It was quiet. There were some cars passing by. Still, his heart was pounding and he couldn't explain the deep-seated fear that had settled into his bones. His mind was screaming at him not to go into his building. But the door was closed. The door was locked. There was no sign of a crime; no broken glass, no blood. 

He put his keys in the door and went inside. 

_'There is something wrong.'_ His mind was screaming at him again and again. 

He looked around, trying to see what had caused him to become so afraid. Nothing was out of place. He went to his mailbox. No mail. That wasn't unusual. He went to the elevator. It came like it normally did. Though it did come from the 8th floor, which was his floor. Usually it came from the 5th floor as Mr. and Mrs. Haddix came home right before him from their cooking class. But he lived in an apartment with a hundred other residents. Someone could have had someone over for dinner. It wasn't strange for an elevator to be on another floor. 

He got off, still trying to figure out what was spooking him so badly. The case they were working on wasn't that terrible compared to the others. Was he already losing it? It hadn't even been a year and he was already jumping at shadows. 

The hallways to his apartment looked the same as it always did. There wasn't a doormat out of place. He stopped at his door and stared at it. If he really was this afraid, maybe he shouldn't be going in. Maybe he should get a hotel for the night and come back tomorrow morning. 

But there was nothing he could think of that would cause him to be afraid. It was probably sleep deprivation mixed with stress. He was not in any danger. He lived in a safe building in a safe part of town where most of the residents were older retirees who enjoyed golfing and cooking classes. He lived on the eighth floor, which was quite a trek for anyone who wanted to merely rob some apartments. The front door was always locked. There was no sign of forced entry. He was fine. He was safe. Now, get inside and order some pizza. 

He stuck his key in and unlocked the door. It swung open. 

He realized why he had been so easy before. 

From the street, he could see all of the apartments that had their lights on. 

He turned his light off every morning. It was the last thing he did before leaving for work. 

The switch had been flipped to the 'on' position, so it wasn't a wiring malfunction. 

On his kitchen table, the books that had been piled there had been removed. Instead, a letter had been placed in the center. 

Reid felt his entire body go cold as he read that familiar handwriting that had terrorized him for years. 

'Hello' was all that was written on the front. 

oOoOoOo

If you were to ask Morgan’s mother what his worst habit was, she’d rattle off a whole encyclopedia. He mixed his darks and his lights when doing laundry. He put his elbows on the table while eating. He didn’t make his bed. He didn’t sweep his floors nearly enough. He didn’t change his hand towel every three uses. 

Yes, according to Derek Morgan’s mother, he had a lot of bad habits that turned her hair grey, but the worst one of all was his penchant for falling asleep in front of the TV. 

If he was so tired, he should just go to bed. 

It wasn’t good for his back. 

It wasn’t good for his neck.

What was so fascinating about shows on at 11 PM that made him want to stay up and watch anyways? 

So when Morgan’s doorbell began buzzing incessantly, he jolted awake and cursed as he realized what had happened again. The TV was on with two characters showcasing some infomercial miracle product. Clooney was on the couch with his head in his lap. 

Derek groaned, wiped the drool from the side of his face and pushed him off. “You know better.” 

Clooney didn’t seem to take his admonishment seriously. Didn’t even have the willingness to at least try and look guilty. 

“You are getting cheeky.” Morgan yawned and stretched. “Looks like those dog training classes didn’t amount to much.” 

Clooney put his head back in his lap and wagged his tail. 

“At least you quit peeing on the floor and chewing all my pillows.” 

He turned off the TV, deciding that he should at least try to sleep in a bed and maybe brush his teeth. 

The doorbell buzzed. He jumped and realized what had woken him up in the first place. He furrowed his brow and went to the button. 

It buzzed again.

Was it some drunk person who mistook this for his building? Maybe he should just let it ring. 

The clock on his microwave told him it was about 2 AM so it wasn’t unreasonable that patrons from bars were starting to stumble home. 

It buzzed again. 

He couldn’t help the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that something was wrong. He sighed. He should just deal with it and send whoever was at his doorstep on their merry way. 

He pressed the button. “Look man, I think you got the wrong place.” 

“Morgan?” 

Morgan felt his heart drop from his stomach. What in the hell was Reid doing at his apartment at this time of night?

“Reid?”

“Yeah, look, can I come up?” There was a pause. “Please?” His voice was shaking and he sounded like he was two seconds away from having a panic attack. 

“Shit yeah, man. I’ll buzz you up.” 

“Thank you.” Another pause. “Sorry if you were sleeping.” 

Morgan would have been upset, but there was something off about this whole situation. Something was very wrong, especially since Morgan was pretty sure Reid’s apartment was nowhere near his. Why wasn’t he at home? They had all gotten out of the office at around 8 PM. Why was Reid here nearly six hours later? If it was an emergency, why hadn’t he called anyone?

He turned to Clooney. “Reid doesn’t like big dogs so when he gets here, no jumping on him.” 

Clooney cocked his head and looked like he was going to do the exact opposite of what Morgan had asked him to do. He just hoped having a giant german shepherd jump on him wouldn’t give the poor kid a heart-attack. 

There was a timid knock at the door. Morgan looked through the peephole to see Reid disheveled, pale, and shaking. He was dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing at the office. In his hands was a pile of papers. He opened the door. 

The look of relief that passed over his face when he saw Morgan. 

“Jesus, kid. What happened to you?” Morgan didn’t miss the way Reid looked down both hallways, almost as if he thought someone was following him. He also didn’t seem like he was going to step through the door. 

He grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Surprisingly, Clooney did not bark or jump him. Instead, he walked right up to Reid and leaned against his legs. Reid jumped and looked down at the dog, frozen in place. 

“Looks like he likes you, genius.” 

“German shepherds date back to 1899 and were originally bred to help herd sheep. They’re actually one of the newer breeds of dogs to be developed.” 

He still had not moved and was still shaking like a leaf. 

Morgan was tired. His neck hurt. He was jetlagged. He really, really did not want to try and pry out information from Reid. But something was wrong. He had to be gentle. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t come over here to talk about dog breed facts.” He tried to lead him to the couch. 

This seemed to snap Reid out of whatever daze he was in and he pulled his arm out of Morgan’s grip. 

“Um, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t be here.” 

“Seriously, kid, what’s going on?” 

He looked down at the stack of papers in his hands. He shook his head. “I’m just overreacting to something. It’s fine. It’s fine, I should really get going.” 

Nope, Morgan was not going to have that. Reid left work with all of them, presumably went home since he definitely did not have those papers in the office. He then appeared at Morgan’s apartment six hours later? Morgan was not going to let this kid leave until he got some answers. 

“I don’t think so, genius. You don’t just show up at someone’s apartment looking like you saw a ghost and then try and brush the whole thing off. Why are you here?” 

“It’s really nothing, Morgan. I swear, it was just an overreaction.”

Dammit, he was very close to losing his temper. 

“Spencer, tell me what’s going on. If it is an overreaction, then I’d rather know now then let you walk out that door and worry about it for the rest of the weekend.” 

Reid looked down at the stack of papers in his hands once more. He looked up at him and sighed. “Just, promise you’ll take me seriously?” 

“Yeah, man, I promise.” He was already taking this seriously. Good things never happened after 10 PM as his mother said. 

Reid sat on the couch with Clooney following him dutifully. It looked like the Reid Effect had no effect on his dog. Reid spread out the papers on the coffee table and took a deep breath. Morgan could see they all appeared to be letters or notes of some kind. Reid also placed a key on the table. 

“Um, okay. So,” he took another shaky breath. Morgan sat down and waited for him to speak. 

“Um.” Reid was rubbing the strap of his satchel between his fingers, his leg bouncing up and down. He was hunched in on himself, trying to appear smaller, less of a target. Maybe Morgan shouldn’t be profiling him, but at this moment, he had no choice. He had to figure out what was going on. 

He took another deep breath. “So, during my freshman year of college, I started getting these letters--”

If Morgan’s heart had already dropped into his stomach, now his body felt like he had been dunked in ice. Any story that started with that sentence could only lead to one place. 

“But then they stopped and I never got another letter.” He reached out and touched a piece of paper with ‘Hello’ scribbled on the front. “At least until tonight and my lights were on in my apartment and I always turn them off and this was on my dining room table which means he was in my apartment but my door was still locked when I came in so he might have actually been there when I came home so I grabbed this stack, which I always keep the a file by the front door and the safety deposit key and I just ran.” 

Morgan nodded and reached out to touch him, to give him some comfort, but he pulled away. Reid did not always react to touch well and right now he was rightfully freaking out. 

“Okay, kid. Did you try and call someone? Gideon? Hotch?” 

Reid shook his head. “My phone’s dead and I don’t have a charger. I was thinking of going to a restaurant or bar and asking them if I could use their phone but everything was so crowded because it’s Friday night that I didn’t want to have someone follow me and not notice.” 

That still didn’t explain what the kid had been doing for the past six hours. 

“What happened after you left your apartment? Where did you go?” 

Reid shrugged and let out another shaky sigh. “I just rode around on the metro trying to figure out what to do. I was thinking of going to a hotel but I didn’t know if it would be safe. I kept switching lines and going to random places just in case someone was following me, but the metro stopped running and your place was the closest so I just came here. Sorry for waking you up.” 

“I’m not mad at you, kid. We have to get the team, see if we can’t figure out who’s doing this.” 

This caught Reid’s attention. His head snapped up and he actually looked fearful at the suggestion. “No, Morgan. It really isn’t that big of a deal.” 

It was a big deal. Stalkers did not disappear for years and then suddenly reappear because they had good intentions. But Morgan could tell Reid was going to make this difficult. He was trying to downplay his trauma, trying to convince himself that he was safe by ignoring the very real and present danger. He’d have to be tricky if he wanted Reid to stay and get the help he needed. 

“So you don’t want to call the team?” He was playing dirty, he knew it. 

Reid nodded. 

“What if Garcia or JJ showed up at your apartment at 2 AM with the exact same story? Would you tell them that it’s no big deal?”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it and glared at him. “That’s a low blow.” 

Morgan smiled, glad the kid was finally relaxing at least a little. “Yeah, it is. But you know I’m right. Come on, man, you’re the smartest person we’ve got on the team.” 

He blushed at the praise and looked down at Clooney who was still glued to his side. 

“You know this kind of thing is a big deal. You’ve probably got hundreds of stalking cases stuffed into that big brain of yours. You know how this turns out.” 

His shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I guess. I just-- the last time I went to get help, it-- they told me I was overreacting.” 

Yep, that was bound to happen. A lot of police forces didn’t take stalking cases seriously, especially with male victims as they were supposed to be able to take care of themselves. 

“Is there at least a file on this case?” He had a feeling what the answer would be.

Reid shook his head. “No. The police didn’t take it seriously, and he- the stalker- disappeared after I got back from spring break so I thought maybe they were right.” 

Morgan did his best to look sympathetic. But he was angry. He was angry at a system that always seemed to fail those who needed it most. He was angry at people who thought their victims owed them their attention. He was angry that he even had to be dealing with this shit. Not because he was angry at Reid for coming to him, but because this had happened when the kid was in college. It should have already been dealt with. 

“I have everything but one letter. I kept it all, most of its in a safety deposit box.” Reid was staring intently at the key. 

“Why don’t you have one letter?” 

“It was the first one I got. I thought it was a joke so I threw it out. When I realized it wasn’t, I rewrote it just in case.” 

The fact that he had to deal with any of this as a child made Morgan’s blood boil. “When did you finally get a hold of the police?” 

“After he broke into my apartment. You couldn’t really tell, but my books had all been rearranged and I was living alone at the time.” 

If the last interaction Reid had with the stalker was a break-in followed by a ten year disappearance, that was a very bad sign. They had to work quickly. There was no telling how obsessed this man was or how much danger Reid was in. 

“I’ll call the team and get them over here. We need to solve this, quickly.” 

Reid looked like he wanted to protest. He was denying his own victimization in a futile attempt to regain control over his life. Morgan wasn’t going to let that happen. 

“Reid, we need to deal with this. I know you understand. Let us help you. That’s why we’re a team.” 

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either. Morgan went to grab his phone. 

He stared at the screen, his head turning over profiles and stalking cases. It made him sick that one of their own was dealing with this. The fact that it was Reid made things worse. He had become protective over the kid. He knew there was some past trauma that hadn’t been addressed and knew that the kid often felt that he was only useful because of his knowledge. Morgan had been working tirelessly the last year to try and show him that he was cared about. The fact that he came to Morgan’s apartment instead of getting a hotel and trying to deal with this on his own was a great sign. That fact that it took him several hours to come to that conclusion was a slightly less great sign. 

He dialed and waited for Gideon to pick up.

“Morgan, what’s wrong?” Gideon’s voice was groggy and Morgan felt bad for waking him up. 

“We have a problem.” 

“Why else would you call me at two in the morning?” 

Fair question. “Did you know Reid has a stalker?” 

The silence on the other end spoke louder than any words. 

“Apparently, he had one in college but he disappeared. Yeah, well, tonight, he came back. I’ve got Reid sitting in my living room trying not to freak out while also distancing himself from the whole affair.” 

Gideon cursed under his breath. “Is he hurt?” He asked, much more awake now. 

“No, he’s fine. Shaken up and probably very sleep deprived, but he’s fine.” 

“Okay. I’ll contact the rest of the team. I know he’s one of ours, but we have to treat this like we would any other case.”

Morgan looked out into the living room. Reid was scratching behind Clooney’s ear, still looking out of it. 

“I don’t know if he’s going to like that.” 

“He doesn’t have a choice. If this is a stalker who’s still obsessed with him after all this time, he is in danger.”

Morgan sighed. “I know, man. I just wish this wasn’t the case.” 

“Me too. I’ll get the rest of the team and we’ll be over in an hour. Get Spencer to tell you as much as possible so we can start building a timeline and a profile.” 

“Got it.” 

Morgan hung up the phone and looked out at Reid. This case was going to be a hard one, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep Reid safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support! This style of writing is different than what I normally do, since there's a lot more technical talk and exposition. I'm also not used to writing mysteries so it's a fun little challenge. Garcia's dialogue is perhaps the hardest to write down since, spoken, it makes sense for her character. Written, however, it can come across as forced or cringe. We'll try and either succeed or not! Have a great Sunday and stay safe.

Reid's eidetic memory had never been such a godsend as it was now. Even with the majority of letters and photos (Morgan hated the fact that there were photos) missing, they were still able to put together a basic timeline of events while waiting for the team. 

"The first letter came about a month into my first semester." Reid placed a typed letter at the edge of Morgan's kitchen table. 

"How old were you at that point?" Morgan knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Twelve." 

Stalking at any age was awful, but to think this was happening to a twelve year-old. It made him sick. 

Reid laid out a few more papers. "It was the only letter I received that semester, though. After I got back from winter break, that's when they started coming more frequently." 

"How often?" 

"An average of once a week. Though, two weeks before he broke into my apartment, they were coming once a day." 

That had to be terrifying. Reid was doing a great job at compartmentalizing this whole mess. He was calm, level-headed, and entirely focused on helping to set up a timeline. It worried Morgan. The longer Reid put off dealing with the emotional trauma, the worse it was going to be when he finally did process it. He wanted the kid to break down. Cry. Panic. Something to show that he was letting his mind deal with this. Instead, he just finished placing the papers in order. 

"What did you do after he broke into his apartment?" This was hard. Treating Reid as both a victim and a fellow-agent was near impossible. There was a way you talked with victims and a way you talked with agents. Not only that, but he was not a neutral third party. He wanted Reid to trust him, to trust that this did not make him weak. He wanted to make sure Reid knew the team wasn’t going to think of him any differently. And yet, they had to. There was a war in his brain about how to proceed, and Morgan was afraid of taking the wrong step. 

"I went to the police immediately and gave a statement."

"After that?" 

Reid paused and looked down at the papers. He leaned back and scrubbed his eyes. His leg started bouncing again. He looked pale and tired. 

"Um, well, the police didn't believe me. You know that." 

Morgan nodded and decided it was worth a shot to put a comforting hand on the kid's shoulder. "I know. I know this is hard, Reid." 

"It's not hard. It's necessary." Reid cut him off. Compartmentalizing again. 

"I know, kid." He was trying not to sound like he was pitying him. It wasn't pity that he felt, but Reid could easily mistake it for that and shut down completely. "You said he disappeared after he broke into your apartment. Was that immediately following the break-in?" 

"I don't know." Reid slumped back and looked younger than ever. "When I realized the police weren't going to do anything, I didn't go back to my apartment. I was tutoring a lot of people around campus. I stayed in a fraternity house that night. But it was Saturday and they were very loud." 

"How old were you at this point?" 

"About fourteen." 

Yikes. A fourteen year-old and a fraternity on the weekend did not mix. 

"After that I bounced around some sorority houses for the next two weeks. Then it was spring break so I went back home. When I got back, there were no other letters or evidence that he was still in the area." 

The stalker must have been committed or imprisoned. There was no other explanation as to why he would escalate to breaking in only to disappear three weeks later. Reid probably came to that conclusion already. 

"We'll need to get access to all of those letters and photos. I know you can recite them from memory, but sometimes--"

"The way he writes them will help us with the profile. I know." Reid looked down at the letters. "I know I can never forget, but I was starting to...not remember as much? If that makes sense. I spent most of the rest of my days at CalTech jumping at every shadow and setting up all of these traps to let me know if anyone had been in my apartment the moment I got home. I guess...I guess when I moved here, I thought I didn't need to think about that anymore." 

Reid sighed. He looked so young in this light, with dark circles around his eyes and hair that had been tangled from running his hands through it constantly. His clothes were wrinkled and dull. His posture was hunched, folding in on himself in a way no human should ever be sitting. "We'll be able to find him?" he asked, finally looking at Morgan after nearly an hour of avoiding his gaze. 

He sounded so very afraid. Morgan tried his best not to give victims false hope. He knew it could lead to disaster and heartbreak. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to be pragmatic with Reid. This kid has flailed his way into the BAU and was honestly such a spark of joy in an otherwise serious and depressing situation. He even got Gideon to loosen up, crack a joke every once in a while. Morgan was pretty sure Reid had gotten Hotch to smile at least once, if you could call that half smirk he did a smile. Garcia and JJ both adored him. And Elle seemed more relaxed with him around. Morgan had gone through all of his years in law enforcement, all of his years on the bomb squad, with a very pessimistic attitude to protect himself from not meeting expectations, which would usually result in a death. Now, though, now looking at Reid in the pale light of the early morning, he couldn't bring himself to think of the worst possible outcome. His brain would not let that possibility enter his mind. 

"Of course we'll find him, kid. We're the best at what we do." 

Reid gave him a strained smile. Even now he was probably calculating statistics about stalkers in his head. How many people survived their encounters without getting hurt or killed? 

There was a knock at the door. Morgan stood up and held his arm out, silently telling Reid to stay put. 

"Morgan, it's Hotch. The team is here,” Hotch said through the door. 

Morgan took a second to look through the peephole, just to make sure this son of a bitch wasn't trying something. It was just the team. 

"It's okay, Reid. Everyone's here." 

He gave Reid a second to compose himself, knowing the kid wouldn't want people to be fussing over him or to appear weak, and then opened the door. 

Garcia was the first one to burst in. Even this early in the morning she was all decked out in feathers and bright colors. Seriously, how many sparkly barrettes did this woman own?

"Reid, are you okay?" She asked, pushing past Morgan with a tin of what smelled like cookies in her hands. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, Garcia," Reid said, letting Garcia hug him tightly before pushing the tin in his hands. 

"You're lucky I was on a baking binge tonight. Well, last night. Freshly baked. I thought everyone here could use some." 

"Thanks, Garcia." Reid opened the tin and smiled, genuinely smiled, at the contents. 

Morgan saw his opportunity to bring some levity to the situation and reached over to grab one. 

"Hey," Reid said, glaring at him. "Garcia gave these to me, not to you."

"I believe she said 'everyone here could use some', pretty boy." 

JJ rolled her eyes. "Boys, don't make me take those cookies from you." Good, she took the bait. 

Morgan smirked, glad Reid had relaxed somewhat. The mood was quickly soured by the gravity of the situation. 

Gideon sat next to him. "Spencer," his voice was earnest and hinting at fear Morgan had never heard before. "We need you to tell us everything you know." 

Reid nodded and recounted word for word what he had told Morgan earlier. He didn't know who was behind this. He never saw anyone acting suspiciously around him. The letters were slipped under his door; never sent so there was no return address. They were never sealed either so no saliva for DNA. They only had the letters and Reid himself to help unscramble this mess. 

"Alright." Hotch said after Reid finished answering questions and clarifying details. "Reid, you, JJ, and Elle go get the rest of the evidence from the safety deposit box and help organize it into a chronology. Morgan, you, Gideon, and I will go over to the apartment and see if he's left anything behind." 

"I should go with you to the apartment," Reid said, falling back into a calm and collected state. 

Hotch shook his head. "No. I know you're a competent agent, but this is affecting you personally and we need to keep you safe."

"With all due respect, sir." Oh, Reid was pissed. He never called Hotch 'sir' unless he felt that he was being treated unfairly. "The last time he broke into my apartment, all he did was rearrange my books and throw out my coffee. What if it's the same this time? How are you going to be able to tell if my papers have been rearranged or if my food is different. You've never been to my apartment. You don't know what's out of place and what isn't." 

"Reid's right." Morgan wanted nothing more than to keep Reid at Quantico so he could stay out of sight from the unsub. However, he was the only one who could tell what had changed. He was their best shot at catching this guy.

Hotch seemed to agree. "Fine. You're still going to pick up the safety deposit box and help organize the materials. Then you'll come with Morgan and I to your apartment." 

"You also mentioned staying with some other students for a few weeks," Elle said. "You should compile a list and we can see if there are any other people to interview." 

Reid nodded and began writing. "I'll include what sororities and fraternities they were in." 

"That'll make my job much easier," Garcia said. 

And with that, the investigation into the stalker of Dr. Spencer Reid had officially begun. 

oOoOoOo

It was around noon. Reid had spent the first several hours of the day organizing papers and photos so his team could profile the unsub. So his team could profile him. 

He hated being on the other side of this. He hated knowing his team was watching his every move to determine what kind of victim he was so they could determine what kind of person their unsub was. He could feel Hotch and Gideon's eyes piercing the back of his head. They had the most knowledge out of everyone in the team. They knew about his mom, about his past. Would that come out during all of this? Would he be forced to tell the team about his childhood and what he had to do when he was eighteen? 

He could sense Garcia and JJ's pity on him, smothering him as they thought of him not as a competent agent who had proven himself in the field, but as a fragile victim who would cry the moment everything became too much. 

He could see Morgan's body language. Morgan had always been slightly overprotective of him. It didn't help that he saw him as a kid. It was pretty typical alpha behavior. Morgan was bigger than him, more physically fit. He saw Reid as an asset that was unable to defend himself so he picked up the perceived slack. If Reid could deal with this when he was a literal child, then he didn't need Morgan hovering over him now. Reid was an adult who was fully qualified to carry a firearm. 

The only one who wasn't pissing him off at the moment was Elle. She seemed to understand how to balance looking at him like a victim and like an FBI agent. He wished she could be here for this apartment inspection, but no. She was back at the office with JJ reading through the one hundred and thirteen letters and looking at fifty four photos that had been sent to him in a two year period. 

"Kid, you don't have to do this," Morgan said once they got to his door. 

"I'm fine. Besides, he's not likely to be there now." He took out his keys and unlocked the door. The lights were off. He had turned them off before his metro trip around DC. He was pretty sure he had ridden on every line and gotten to every stop on the DC metro. Six lines. Ninety-one stops. One hundred and seventeen miles. Though he likely exceeded that as he doubled back on some of the trips. 

"Alright, Reid," Hotch stepped in after him. "Is there anything you see that immediately jumps out--"

"Seriously!" He dashed over to his bookshelf. "He rearranged my books again! I just got them how I wanted them." 

He reached up to take out Chaucer so he could put it back in it's correct spot. 

"Woah, kid." Morgan stopped his hand. "Don't touch those. Just tell us what is wrong. There could be fingerprints."

He huffed and dropped his hand. Morgan was right, of course. He shouldn’t be touching anything. 

He took a deep breath, shoved his emotions as far down as they would go, and looked back up at the bookshelf. “The books are separated into two categories, fiction and nonfiction. The fiction ones are arranged by last name of the author and the nonfiction ones are arranged based on the Dewey Decimal system, though he mixed up a few of them.” 

“And how do you normally organize them?” Hotch asked, coming to study the bookshelf.

God, this was so personal. Why did they need to know how he arranged his books? They just needed to know that his books had been rearranged. “This particular bookshelf I have more of a scrapbook, I guess. These books all hold some important place in my life so I arranged them chronologically.” 

He glared at a neurobiology textbook he had picked up to determine if he wanted to get another degree. “This one isn’t even supposed to be here. It’s supposed to be on a bookshelf in my room that I have specifically for educational purposes. Not for fun.”

“You read _Nicomachean Ethics_ for fun?”

“What else am I going to read for fun?” It was nice to slip back into this banter. It made him feel as though this was some other victim, someone else’s house, someone else’s case. 

“So he’s organized and knows how to use the Dewey Decimal system,” Hotch said, pulling them back to the task at hand.

“Organized in a more traditional way. Something that’s outwardly organizational and doesn’t take into account other methods.” Morgan added. “Very structured.” 

Reid let them murmur to themselves about the organization of the particular unsub. He could have told them that, in fact, he did tell them that in his initial briefing of the case. 

“Anything else stick out to you as out of place?” Morgan asked, finally deciding he had stared at the bookshelf enough. 

Reid looked around and sighed. “Yeah. He moved all of my notebooks, books, and papers from the dining room table.” He glanced over to the couch. “And the couch.” 

Morgan snickered. “Do you have a flat, horizontal surface in your apartment that doesn’t have some sort of nerd material on it?” 

Reid playfully smacked his arm. “Not all of us are content with sports and attractive women.” 

“Yeah, some of us are content with string theory and Dr. Who.” 

“Can we focus?” Hotch’s voice snapped them back. 

Reid nodded and went over to the kitchen. Upon opening his cupboards, he felt a hatred run so deep in his bones he finally understood why some unsubs snapped. “I am going to kill him.” 

“What’s wrong, Reid?” Morgan asked, his playful demeanor dropping. 

“My coffee. All of my coffee's gone. Again!” 

Morgan let out another snicker. “So our unsub is a librarian who only drinks decaf? I don’t think I’ve seen that particular MO before.” 

“I am going to destroy him slowly,” Reid continued to seethe under his breath. It was one thing to rearrange his books. He could get them back in order when this was all said and done. It was another thing entirely to get rid of his coffee. Then again, he should have seen it coming. 

“So this break-in is following the pattern of the last one,” Hotch interjected, putting them once more on track. “He breaks in, rearranges your books to something he deems appropriate and then throws out your coffee.” 

Reid nodded. 

“He’s controlling and particular in how he wants you to behave,” Hotch said. 

“That’s not uncommon for stalkers. They build up this perfect image of how their victim is supposed to act and that often involves them being completely submissive to their ideals.” Reid said. 

There was a knock at the door. Gideon came in looking solemn. “It was Friday night so while there is security footage of the front door, so many people were getting buzzed in and out it’s impossible to tell if anyone isn’t supposed to be there. I sent the footage over to Garcia so you can take a look at it later.” 

“Reid, go back with Gideon and help him and Elle with the letters. Morgan, you and I will talk to some of the tenants and see if any of them saw something suspicious.” 

Reid frowned but said nothing as he followed Gideon out the door. He knew what Hotch was doing. He was getting him out of the apartment so they could profile him. He was a victim and they were going to sit there and dig out every last scrap of personality to determine why someone would be so interested in him. He hated it. It was almost dehumanizing in a way, as if he had no privacy. 

Gideon didn’t immediately start the car. 

Reid didn’t say anything. Let him come up with some sort of sickly excuse. 

Finally, he spoke. “I know this is hard.” 

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. Never before had he felt like such a teenager. 

“I have no privacy, from anyone. It’s like no one cares that I don’t want some things coming out into the open. Hotch and Morgan are in my apartment with gloves on, looking through my things and I know it’s necessary. I know it has to be done so we can catch this guy, but I want this all to go away.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m overreacting. There are much more important cases that we could be working on. This guy hasn’t escalated. We have time.” 

“Spencer,” his voice was so carefully controlled. It was even and conveyed no emotion, at least no emotion to anyone not schooled in reading Jason Gideon. “I know this is hard for you. But you and I both know unsubs escalate, and we can’t always predict when or why. The longer we put off dealing with this, the more likely you are to get hurt, and no one on the team wants that.” 

He did know that. Logically, he knew that he needed help and he needed help now. Logically, he knew that trying to deal with this case on his own would only lessen his ability to work on other cases. And yet his brain was not reacting logically. It was reacting emotionally. It didn’t want to face the fact that there was someone out there who was now in control of his life. He didn’t want to face the fact that his apartment, the place where he was supposed to be safe, was now decidedly not safe. His brain was desperate to go back to the way things were despite the fact that there was no going back. 

Gideon started the car and drove away from his apartment complex. “It’s okay to rely on other people.” 

“Maybe you should listen to your own advice.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long. With everything going on I didn't really want to write anything heavy. I'm feeling much better now so hopefully updates will start up more regularly. Enjoy!

Morgan paced about the room, his mind working on both profiles. “We have to look at Reid as if he was still twelve years old. An unsub gone for this long was likely incarcerated which means his vision of Reid is stunted to when they last interacted.” 

He looked around the apartment, as the books and papers that had been neatly stacked away against Reid’s wishes. “Alright, so I’m a twelve-year-old in a brand new environment. Did Reid’s mom come with him to Caltech?” 

Hotch shook his head. He was hiding something about Reid. Gideon too, but Morgan didn’t want to press them, not yet. If they truly thought it was relevant to the case, they would have said something. Of course, with Reid being so close to all of them, maybe their judgment was clouded. Morgan’s sure as hell was. 

“Alright,” he continued. “So not only am I not even allowed to see a PG-13 movie by myself, I’m alone in a new place without any trusted adult supervision. That’s every child predator’s dream come true.” 

“Not to mention colleges are breeding grounds for risky behavior. Even if Reid didn’t actively participate in partying, there’s still a lack of care as to what the other people around you are doing.” 

“Free to stay up until one in the morning every night, eat nothing but cake for all your meals. He’s not old enough to drive so he takes public transportation, walks, or bikes to and from class. That is one hell of a high-risk victim.” Morgan stopped and shook his head. “Why didn’t this guy try and kidnap him? I know stalkers like to build up their obsession, but usually, there’s something in the way of them getting them. Reid should have been easy pickings.” 

“There’s a reason he waited. If we can figure out why we’ll have a better chance of figuring out who.” Hotch said. “There has to be something in there that indicts why he was so slow to escalation.” 

“Maybe he had some access to Reid, but not enough to fully stop the letters. It could be why there was only one for the first semester.” 

Hotch thought this over. “College students have constantly shifting schedules, between classes, work-study, mid-semester breaks, it’s likely that as Reid continued through college, his access to him started to diminish.” 

“Hence why he started breaking and entering. Except something happened that stopped him for ten years.” 

“Let’s hope Elle can come up with more information based on the letters,” Hotch started to walk out the door. 

“Wait,” Morgan had to get this off his chest.

Hotch stopped and turned around. 

“Look, I know that Reid’s an agent, but he’s not dealing with this well.” 

“He seems to be doing fine to me,” Hotch said, though there was a pause in his voice, a hesitation that meant he understood what Morgan was trying to say. 

“No, no, he’s compartmentalizing, dissociating from this. Even though the guy hasn’t touched him, this is a huge invasion of privacy and has destroyed his sense of safety.”

“Then we should keep working the profile and find the unsub before he escalates further.” 

Morgan sighed. He knew it was going to be difficult to get through to Hotch. They weren’t used to this, weren’t used to being both profilers and a support system. Reid had no one. He relied on all of them to be his family. But in doing so, it was clouding their judgment. They were trying to respect him as a fellow agent, but there was only so far they could push it. Morgan thought it might be better to pass the case off to another department. His desire to protect Reid overruled that particular thought. He didn’t want to have the kid go through this with strangers. Reid barely trusted them! Morgan was willing to bet he didn’t know Reid nearly as well as Reid knew him. It was frustrating to try and balance these two trains of thought in his mind. 

“Hotch,” he hoped his voice was authoritative. He hoped Hotch would take his concerns seriously. “If he continues to ignore this, to pretend like this isn’t a big deal, it’s going to end in disaster. He’ll convince himself that very real warnings aren’t real. This guy didn’t just pop up last night. He’s probably been following Reid around for a while.”

Hotch nodded. “He knew he’d be home tonight and the approximate time. He knew where he lived and that he lived alone without pets or overly nosey neighbors.” 

“Reid needs to accept the fact that he is a victim, even if he doesn’t like it. Otherwise, he’ll do something stupid to prove to himself and all of us that this was a huge overreaction.” 

Hotch nodded. “Gideon is talking to him about it.” 

Morgan scoffed. “Really? You think Gideon is going to talk some sense into him? We can’t even get Gideon to deal with his trauma.” To be fair, Morgan wasn’t dealing with his trauma either. Then again, Morgan’s trauma wasn’t stalking him and breaking into his apartment. 

“Reid will listen to Gideon. He trusts him.” 

“I hope you’re right, man.” He also hoped they would do their best to keep an eye on Reid. It should go without saying that the kid wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere by himself until this was all taken care of. He’d stay at Morgan’s place, of course. He knew Reid wouldn’t like it. He knew Reid would eventually give them the slip. They would just have to deal with it and hope that the kid wasn’t stupid enough to go wandering off when someone was trying to kidnap him. 

“Come on, let’s go talk to the tenants.” 

Morgan didn’t feel any better after their conversation. He felt like he was the only one taking Reid’s hesitance to treat himself like a victim seriously. He felt like they were fighting an uphill battle. But that’s what they did. They fought uphill battles and they saved lives. 

It was what he was going to have to focus on.

oOoOoOo

Elle put down what felt like the thousandth letter she had read that day. “Well, I’m getting very creeped out.” She dropped it on the table next to a very voyeuristic photo of Reid sitting in a coffee shop, reading a book. He looked so scrawny and tiny in that photo. He hadn’t had a growth spurt yet and the glasses he was wearing were bigger than his face. 

“Because a grown man was sending letters to a child? Who’d have guessed,” JJ said, flipping through her own stack of letters. 

"Who does this?" Elle continued. "What makes someone think they have the right to another person's life." 

JJ nodded. "I hate doing this. It feels wrong. This guy, whoever he is, it's like he doesn't even see Spence as a person." 

"Stalkers fantasize about their victims. They think they're perfect until they're proven they aren't. And when that happens..." Elle didn't want to finish the sentence. She had seen enough stalking cases to know it never ended well. "Let's hope Garcia has a list of phone numbers we can contact." 

"Oh, I have something even better," Garcia said, striding into the room like she owned the place. "I ran all of the names Reid gave me through the sorority and fraternity databases. A couple of semi-illegal hacks later, and I've got not only names and numbers to every one of those names, but I have an address." 

"I would think you'd have lots of addresses," JJ said. 

"Yeah, well, you're going to love this address. She lives about an hour away from us." 

Elle looked up. "Really? That's great." While phone interviews could be beneficial, it was easy for people to blow them off. They could easily hang up the phone or lie and say they had to go. A face to face interview often garnered much more information. Even if the person wasn't completely forthcoming, body language still helped out a lot, telling them where to press and how much more the person knew. 

Garcia grinned, knowing full well she had found a great lead. "Jessica Beale, she was in Kappa Kappa Gamma and currently works at a consulting firm that specializes in pharmaceuticals and policy surrounding them." 

"Good work, Garcia," Elle said. "That'll help us figure out what was going on during Reid's time at CalTech." 

"If she remembers him. I'll call Hotch and let him know," JJ said, picking up her phone.

"Try and get some juicy details about our resident genius," Garcia added. "I'm betting Dr. Spencer Reid had a wild side." 

Elle snorted. "Please, the kid is addicted to coffee and thinks going to a science symposium on particle physics is the definition of a fun weekend." 

"The quiet ones are always the wild ones," Garcia said, waving to them as she went back to her tech cave. 

"Alright, thanks." JJ hung up the phone and turned back to Elle. "Morgan and Hotch are interviewing some of the tenants, but they’re not getting very far. Spence and Gideon are heading back now. Tomorrow you and I will go interview Jessica Beale and see if that isn't more informative." 

Elle nodded. "What do you think about this guy? Any ideas?" 

JJ looked back at the letters. "Well, I'm not as good as you guys, but he knows Spence." 

"Most stalkers do." 

"He had to be a relatively regular fixture in his life, otherwise he would have noticed something." 

Elle looked back at the coffee shop picture. "Yeah, he was definitely around campus regularly. A student wouldn't stick out. Especially not to Reid." 

"And he could have had access to the dorms where he lived." 

"Or he was friends with someone was there. Reid said he tutored around campus for some extra money. That could be how he met him. Tutored for a semester, sparked the interest of the unsub, didn't tutor for the second semester which led to an escalation." 

“And if he was arrested, which a lot of college-aged kids are—” JJ said, remembering her college days. She wasn’t nearly as wild as some of the people she went to school with. But she did some stupid and risky things. Now, being surrounded by case file after case file of college-aged girls who went missing, it made her shudder to think just how lucky she had been. 

“Hopefully Ms. Jessica Beale can give us some more information.” Elle looked around at all of the letters and photos they had pinned around the room. They had to work quickly. They were running out of time. Every second they wasted was a second the unsub could use to gain the upper hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Reid did not like being kept in the dark. He did not like the fact that he knew nothing about the case. He only knew what he had already figured out years ago. He was being stalked by some unknown man. He knew it was a man based on the way the letters were written. Other than that, he didn’t know anything. And he hated it. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. He was a full-blown profiler with the ability to help them with this. Hell, just last month he had helped them with another stalking case. Why was this one so different? 

“Ready to go, genius?” Morgan asked as Reid continued to scowl at his computer. 

“Go? Where are we going?” Were they finally going to treat him like an actual agent and let him take part in the case? 

“Back to my place?” 

“What? Why would I go back to your place?” 

Morgan sighed. “Because you have a stalker who broke into your apartment last night and has been obsessed with you for over a decade? Unless you want to sleep on the couch in the break room. I wouldn’t suggest it. Every time I pass out there I wake up with the worst backache. Problems with getting old.” 

“Why do I have to go back to your place, though? Why can’t I just get a hotel or something?” Great, now he had to be followed everywhere. He didn’t need Morgan to protect him. He was doing fine on his own. Was this because he showed up to his apartment this morning shaking and practically crying? He knew he should have dealt with this on his own. He had worked so hard to get the team to respect him and treat him as an equal and now it was all going out the window. 

“I don’t know why you’d want to go to a hotel. Plus, Clooney likes you.” 

Reid was not stupid. As Morgan liked to point out regularly, he was, in fact, a genius. The real reason he was going to Morgan’s apartment and not some hotel was because Morgan wanted to feel like he was in control. The unsub had stripped control from all of them, but Morgan, being a typical alpha male, was probably feeling it the most. It had shaken his sense of balance and he was desperate to get it back. The best way to do that, in Morgan’s mind, was to put himself in a place he was familiar with. That’s why he was taking Reid back to his place. That was why they weren’t getting a hotel. 

“Look, kid,” 

Reid glared at him. Normally, the nickname wouldn’t be so bad but with everything that was happening, it was just another reminder of how incompetent he was. 

“It’s either me or Gideon. And trust me, you don’t want to be anywhere near Gideon while he sleeps.” 

“Why?” He thought he knew Gideon pretty well, but there was always some mystery to the man. 

“Let’s just say he snores loud enough to cause earthquakes.” Morgan laughed. 

“I heard that, Morgan.” Gideon came out the bullpen, files in his hand. He turned to Reid. “Tomorrow I want you to help us work a potential profile with the letters while JJ and Elle talk with Jessica.” 

Finally, someone who wasn’t treating him like a fragile victim!

“Is that really a good idea?” Morgan asked. 

He was going to kill Morgan. He was going to cover him in barbeque sauce and feed him to Clooney. It was perfect. 

“He’s been working the case the longest. He knows how this guy thinks. We need him.” 

“Also, I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.” He piped up, not wanting to be talked about as if he weren’t even here. 

Morgan sighed and nodded. He didn’t want Reid to be helping out, that much was clear. Maybe tonight he could talk to him, make him come around to the fact that even now, Reid could be useful. 

“Let’s get going, then. We’ll be here tomorrow, Gideon.” 

Reid grabbed his things, knowing it was futile to argue and headed out with Morgan. 

“Reid,” Morgan said once they were alone in the elevator, “I hope you know I’m not trying to treat you like a victim.” 

“It sure seems that way,” he scoffed. He was frustrated, scared, and felt alone. He wanted things to be normal. He needed things to be normal. The more Morgan handled him like he was breakable, the harder it was to keep his grip on reality. 

“You know how complicated these things are.” The door dinged open and they started walking to his car. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you don’t know everything?” He snapped. 

“Of course, I don’t know everything. But I also know there’s a huge difference between working a case and being a victim.” 

This caused Reid to pause. IT didn’t sound like Morgan was speaking hypothetically. It sounded like he was speaking from experience. It put things in a new light. Had he dealt with a similar case with a colleague? Maybe he should cut the guy some slack. He was just trying to help. 

“Oh, since you’re going to be staying with me until this is all over. I’m limiting you to one cup of coffee a day. I can’t afford to feed your habit.”

Never mind, he was going to kill him slowly and feed him to Clooney. It was a perfect plan. 

\----------

Morgan woke up to Clooney shoving his nose in his face. 

“I’m never going to sleep through the night, am I?” He asked. Clooney normally didn’t need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. Of course, tonight, when they were dealing with unsub after one of their own Clooney needed to go. 

Clooney shoved his nose in his face once more and whined. 

“Alright, alright, give me a minute.” He rolled out of bed and put a shirt on and looked around for his shoes. 

Clooney left the room, his nails clicking on the floor. Morgan paused. It didn’t sound like Clooney was going to the door. Instead, it sounded like he was going to the guest room where Reid was currently sleeping. 

“Clooney,” he hissed. “Don’t wake him up. Get back here or wait by the door.” 

Reid was still very uncomfortable around Clooney even after it was clear the dog loved him more than Morgan. Though he did hear Reid trying talking to the dog earlier and it sounded like he was trying to get Clooney to eat him. He still didn’t know what that was about. 

Clooney growled. That snapped Morgan right out of his thoughts. Clooney barked. He whined. But he never growled. Something was wrong. He reached for the gun he kept by the nightstand. He was fully awake now and straining to hear any noise what so ever. 

It didn’t sound like anyone was moving in his apartment. Clooney was still growling though.

Reid’s door opened. “Clooney?” He asked, yawning. 

“Reid?” Morgan slid out the door to make sure the kid was okay. 

“Morgan? What’s wrong with Clooney? I heard him growling and—” His eyes fell to the gun. It was dark, so Morgan couldn’t be sure, but he thought Reid went white. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Get back in the room and let me check it out. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

“You and I both know that’s a lie. What’s going on?” 

Dammit. Reid was too stubborn sometimes. “Don’t argue with me. Get back in the room and stay there until I say so.” 

Reid’s eyes flickered to the door. Thankfully he nodded and slid back into the room. Clooney followed him. That was alright with Morgan. 

His heart was pounding as he made his way to the door, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. If the stalker was here, why hadn’t he made a move or try to break it? Had he been standing outside the door? For how long? 

He was at the door now. He couldn’t see anyone’s shadow underneath, so he put his eye up to the peephole. Nothing. He couldn’t see anyone there. Should he risk opening the door? He could kind of see to the left and the right, but not well. There could be someone on either side. 

The unsub was right-handed, which means that if he was lying in wait outside of Morgan’s field of view, he would likely be on the right side of the door. Morgan put his hand on the handle and steeled himself to act. 

In one fluid motion, he unlocked the door and yanked it open, immediately pointing his gun to the right. He then swiveled to the left and looked down the hall. No one was there. 

Maybe Clooney had picked up on his nervous energy and had gotten spooked by something. As long as Reid was still safe. 

Morgan turned to go back into the apartment. 

His blood ran cold. 

On the door, was a note.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh! My computer decided to die so I couldn't get this stupid chapter out when scheduled. But don't worry, my lovelies! Everything is fixed and this is the first thing I did. I am not going to leave you guys hanging for months on end like I did last time! I will upload regularly, I promise. Enjoy this next installment of "Torturing Reid Because the Criminal Minds Writers Didn't Do it Enough, Apparently".
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: DISCUSSIONS AND MENTIONS OF RAPE

Morgan was trying not to freak out as the implications of what had just happened rushed into his mind. The unsub knew where Morgan lived, and he knew Reid was here. They were lucky the bastard didn’t try to break in, he just left the note. 

Reid wasn’t saying anything. He was staring at the table where the note was sitting as if it were a bomb about to go off. 

He had to do something. He felt like he was drowning. Not even the type of drowning where you were still able to kind of keep your head above water. No, he had cement blocks tied to his feet and they were dragging him down to the very deepest part of the ocean. 

“What does it say?” Reid asked, his voice quiet and small. 

Morgan swallowed. He hadn’t read it. Somehow, it felt like an invasion of Reid’s privacy. Except, that was flawed and dangerous thinking. If it were any other victim, he would have read the note immediately. He was letting his emotions cloud his judgment, letting his feelings towards Reid influence his investigation. 

“I haven’t read it yet,” he admitted. 

“Can you?” Reid asked. 

Morgan’s eyes flickered towards him. He was still staring at that damned note. “Are you sure?” 

“I don’t want to read any more letters from him,” Reid admitted. 

He couldn’t blame him. He had only been working the case for a day and already he was getting sick and tired of this game. The unsub was smart and controlled, which made him all the more dangerous. Unsubs who still had control over their actions were better at avoiding capture and detection. They had to wait for him to make a mistake. Except, those mistakes could result in someone (Reid) getting killed. 

He picked up the letter. The unsub was angry when he wrote this. He had torn the paper in a few spots and Morgan could see the words bleeding in from the other side.

“If I read it, I’ll remember it forever.” Reid continued. “I’m tired of remembering everything. I just want to forget.” 

“I understand. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. I can give you the bullet points.” At least Reid seemed to finally be breaking down; finally understanding that he was a victim and in a lot of danger. Maybe now he wouldn’t argue every second of every day. 

He opened it and took a deep breath. 

_Agent Morgan,_

Shit, it was addressed to him. A stalker who felt their target was being taken away from them by another person was at the tipping point. Morgan knew, with just those two words on the page, the unsub was no longer in control of his desires. From here on out, he would do anything to get Reid with him and he would get rid of anyone who stood in his way. 

_It has come to my attention that you wish to separate Spencer from me. I suggest you do not. I only want what’s best for him. Surely you understand that? Remove yourself and your team from this investigation and we will all come out of this alive and okay._

_Do not cross me._

He folded the letter and put it back on the table. 

“So?” Reid asked, looking anxious. 

“Well, he knows who I am, and where I live. And he doesn’t like that you’re here or that the team is working the case.” 

Reid groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I knew this was a mistake.’ 

“Really? You’re still telling yourself that? Look, kid, if anything this proves that this guy is dangerous. You can’t do this alone. You need out help.” 

“He’s escalating. A letter, a break-in, and another letter.” Reid sat back and looked at him. He was exhausted, Morgan could tell. 

“Exactly, but we’ll catch this guy. JJ and Elle are going to talk with Jessica today. We have more evidence and he’s getting sloppy. He might have left some DNA or fingerprints on this. And, given that he has probably been in jail for the past few years, he’s going to be in some sort of system.” 

Reid didn’t look convinced. 

Morgan put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Trust us.” 

Reid nodded. “I don’t think I can go back to bed, though. Not after what happened.” 

He felt the same way. The unsub could be good at picking locks. He could have a weapon. He could be waiting for them to go back to bed before making his move. He flicked on the TV and tossed Reid the remote. 

“Pick something to watch, then.” He paused, then added, “something that’s not educational. I don’t want to sleep, but if you put on something about Bionic Chemistry or something, I might just fall asleep.” 

“Bionic chemistry?” 

“Don’t be a smart ass.” Morgan threw a pillow at him. 

They ended up watching something sci-fi. Morgan didn’t care. It could have been anything and he still wouldn’t have been watching it. His mind was racing with possibilities. From the letter, he could tell the unsub was educated, which made sense given CalTech’s reputation. Except, it didn’t read like someone who was scientifically educated. It read more like someone who had a strong background in English. It might be a clue, or it might be a complete red herring. Maybe the guy just read a lot of older literature. 

He also wondered what his plan was for tonight. He left the note, true, but was that what he wanted to do. Morgan’s eyes flickered back to the piece of paper sitting on the table. He didn’t pick it up and examine it, not wanting to stress Reid out more than he already was. It was just a sheet of plain notebook paper, but the size wasn’t standard. It was too small. Probably only half or a third of what an actual notebook would be. It was also ripped along the edges. So maybe a journal of some kind? A day planner? Tomorrow, when Reid was distracted by whatever Garcia was doing he and Gideon could do a full examination. 

Maybe the unsub had wanted to break in. Then why didn’t he?

Morgan glanced over at Clooney, once again on the couch (though he was snuggled up to Reid so he didn’t have the heart to scold him). Maybe the unsub had planned on breaking in but didn’t think he could take on two agents and a dog. 

He was going to give so many treats to Clooney when this was all over. Maybe even hire a dog walker to take him out every two hours. Or put him in doggy daycare so he could run and play instead of being here at home. He was going to have to do something to thank Clooney for what he did. Belly rubs weren’t going to be enough. 

oOoOoOo

JJ and Elle pulled up to a nice looking house on a nice looking street. Neither got out at first. 

Finally, JJ said, “I wish we were back with Spence, instead of here. He needs support right now and I’m pretty sure we’re all he has.” 

“I know how you feel,” Elle said. She looked tired and overworked. After hearing about what happened last night, everyone was more on edge than ever. “But we need to solve this. Jessica might be our clue. The faster we get this done, the faster everything can go back to normal.” 

“Do you think everything can go back to normal?” she asked. She always wondered about that, when they left. Sure, they usually caught the bad guy, but in their wake was nothing but destruction. Families were shattered, lives were ruined, communities were rocked. And they just… left. They just packed up and left as soon as their job was done, leaving the victims behind to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. 

She didn’t think about it much. In this line of work, you couldn’t think about it much. There were other unsubs to catch, other criminals to put away. If you stayed behind in every case you’d never solve another one. But they couldn’t leave, not this time. Reid was ingrained in all of their lives and solving the case didn’t mean they could go back to normal. 

“I don’t know,” Elle said, opening the door and stepping out. “But the faster we solve this, the less likely someone is going to get hurt.” 

She followed her, knowing there was a lot of truth in those words. It would be easier for Spence to recover from some letter and a break-in than physical harm. 

She rang the doorbell. 

“Just a minute!” A woman called from the inside. 

She opened the door smiling. JJ and Elle held up their badges and her smile immediately dropped. 

“Jessica Beale?” JJ asked. 

“Yes,” she didn’t look scared, more confused. 

“I’m agent Jereau and this is Agent Greeneway, we’re with the FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” 

Her brow furrowed. “FBI? What’s this about?” 

JJ and Elle glanced at each other. They didn’t want to invade Reid’s privacy or change a peer’s perception of him. However, it was inevitable. 

“We’re here about Dr. Spencer Reid, you two went to CalTech together.” As if anyone could forget a twelve-year-old genius. 

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Spencer? Is he in trouble?” Then, realization dawned on her and her face paled. “Is this about that stalker?” 

Elle nodded. “We’re going to have to ask you a couple of questions.” She repeated. “Can we come in?” 

“Oh, my god, yes, yes.” She opened the door and stepped to the side so they could go in. 

Her house was nice. Upper-class. Though it was plain. A lot of the furniture was beiges, whites, and creams. There were a few photos scattered about, but not much. She didn’t spend a lot of time here. The house was probably bought for show more for practicality. She wanted to signal to her parents and peers that she was successful, but she probably wanted a smaller apartment closer to work. She might have even had a smaller apartment that she spent her weeknights at. 

“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?” She said, leading them into the nicely furnished but still rather plain living room. 

“No thank you,” JJ said. “I promise, we won’t take up much of your time.” 

“No, take as much of it as you need. I know those cops back in California never did anything.” She spat. “We were all relieved when the creep seemed to disappear off the face of the Earth, but it never sat right with me.”

“You didn’t think he was gone?” Elle asked. 

“No, I knew he was gone. Stalkers don’t just disappear. I wanted to know why he was gone. I always knew he’d come back eventually.” 

Elle and JJ shared another look. She was perceptive. 

“Were you close with Reid?” JJ asked. 

Jessica shrugged. “I think we were, but you have to understand he wasn’t really close with anyone. Not for lack of trying.” 

“He didn’t fit in with the other students?” 

“No. I mean, he didn’t. I don’t think there was any way for him to fit in, but a lot of us really liked him. Some of the girls said he was like their little brother. He was the one who kept to himself mostly, didn’t seem to want to get attached to anyone. I don’t think he had a great home life.” 

They were dangerously close to splitting the mystery that was Spencer Reid wide open. Elle had to agree with Jessica. There was something in Reid’s past that made him distant. So far, it seemed that only Morgan and Gideon were really the only two who he did trust. It stung, but she also understood. 

Jessica laughed. “He was so cute, though. His glasses were bigger than his face and he used to carry around these textbooks that weighed more than him. We used to joke he could outlift the football team.” 

“What happened with the stalker?” She asked, desperate to come up with some lead. 

“Poor kid, none of us knew he had a stalker until he went to the fraternity next to ours one night almost in tears. I think he was having a panic attack or something.” 

The image made her wince. Reid, still only a child, desperately banging on the door of a fraternity for safety and protection. 

“Why did he go to a fraternity first and not your sorority?” JJ asked. 

Jessica shrugged. “Who knows with that kid. I think he was hoping the frat bros would be more intimidating. I can’t blame him. It’s not like we were kick-ass.” 

“And then what happened?” Elle pressed. They still weren’t getting new information, but that was okay. She needed to lead Jessica through the events and hope that something sparked or stood out as significant. 

She sighed. “He came to us the next day, I don’t think he liked all the drinking. A lot of our sisters dealt with stalkers before, mainly exes but there were one or two random classmates that thought one hello meant we were in love with them. We already had a system in place so for the next few weeks Spencer would bounce around between the houses. We made sure he was never alone. We drove him to and from school instead of him riding his bike or taking the bus. You know, everything we could do we did do. The police weren’t much help.” 

Elle’s brow furrowed. “Did you ever receive a note or anything that signaled that the stalker knew where Reid was and what you were doing?” 

Jessica shook her head. “Not that I know of. We all knew to keep everything, just in case, so no one should have thrown anything like that out.” 

That was odd. Morgan had Reid sleep at his place one night and the unsub broke into his apartment building and was likely planning on breaking into his apartment had it not been for Clooney. These girls did the same thing, more or less, and lessened his access to Reid, and yet nothing happened? There should have been some evidence that he was upset with their actions. There should have been some sort of retaliation. 

Which meant either the stalker still had access to Reid even after all of their planning, or he had already been arrested at this point. 

“Can you think of anyone who might be behind this?” JJ asked. “Even if you aren’t completely sure any names are better than no names.” 

“Hmm,” Jessica sighed and tilted her head back. “There was this one frat bro, Gerald Baker? I think that was his name.” 

Elle scribbled it down. “Any particular reason why you think he was the stalker?” 

“He was always kind of creepy. He had Spencer tutor him in math a few times but we always got bad vibes from him.” 

“We?” 

“Yeah, the other sisters and I. Girls talk, you know. We have this whole code about who you should avoid and who you can trust. Shit like that spreads throughout the sororities. No one wants to be raped. It doesn’t always keep us safe, but it helps.” 

“So you think he may have been the stalker?” If Reid tutored him, then that would introduce them. If he continued to tutor people in Baker’s fraternity, that would have been continuous access. It wasn’t a terrible fit. 

“I’m not sure.” She sighed. “As I said, I always got this creep factor from him, and to be honest, I don’t even think his brothers liked him that much. And you know those guys cover up rape accusations for each other all the time.” 

Very true. “Did he disappear around the same time the stalker did?” 

“I’m not sure. Like I said, I tried to avoid the guy. But I don’t think I saw him around much after the break-in. Or for the rest of the year.” 

She could tell there wasn’t much more they were going to get out of Jessica. She had given them a name, though, and that was a start. Hopefully, with this new letter and this name, they’d finally be able to wrap this case up and go back to normal. 

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Beale,” JJ said.

“I hope Spencer is doing okay. This isn’t something anyone should ever have to go through,” she said, leading them to the front door.

“We’re doing everything we can to keep him safe.” Though Elle still didn’t feel like it was enough. They needed to work faster. They needed to do more. God! She felt so helpless and she hated it. 

JJ called Garcia to give her Baker’s name and to let Gideon know what they had found out. Maybe it would help spark something in Reid and give them the break they were looking for. 

“What do you think?” JJ asked her. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think Baker is our unsub.” 

“We’ll see what Garcia can dig up on him.” She put a hand on Elle’s shoulder. “We’ll solve this. We’re good at what we do.” 

“But are we good enough?” 

The clock was ticking. The unsub was a bomb waiting to go off. She just hoped they would find him before Reid got hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes watching Gideon work was disturbing. Morgan was certain the man hadn’t moved or blinked since he sat down nearly two hours ago. He was just sitting there, staring at a collage of letters and photos that painted a disturbing picture of a grown man’s obsession with a child. 

He wanted to ask if Gideon was getting any ideas or leads from his observation, but knew if he had, he would already be running out the door on his way to apprehend the unsub. So he sat there and waited. 

Garcia was working on finding out where Baker was, but she was hitting roadblock after roadblock. Apparently, rich parents could help their sick son hide from the world’s greatest hacker. 

He had been so hopeful when they tracked down Jessica. He thought they could break this case wide open and wrap this up in less than a week. He should have known better. Cases were never easy and unsubs, especially ones that managed to stay off the grid for this long, were slippery. 

He hated himself. 

He hated his cockiness that lead to the unsub at his front door. He hated that he couldn’t find a single promising lead. He hated that he was staring at Gideon while Gideon did all the work. He hated that he could never figure out the right thing to say to Reid. He hated everything. 

There was a knock at the door. Gideon didn’t jump, just blinked slowly and turned. Garcia was standing at the door. She still wore enough glitter and color to serve as a beacon in a snowstorm, but Morgan could tell there was a certain somberness to her outfits. Her lipstick wasn’t perfect, she wasn’t wearing ridiculously long false lashes, her hair seemed to hang limp, and even her accessories didn’t seem to sparkle in the light as much. 

“Have something for us?” He tried to sound positive and cheerful like everything was completely normal. 

“Yeah, I managed to find Baker,” she said, her voice shaking. 

“And?” Gideon sounded like he already knew the answer. It was uncanny. 

“He’s not our guy. Not unless he’s hired someone to do this. He’s in jail and has been for the past two years.” 

“Stalkers don’t like to hire other people to track their victims.” Gideon murmured, turning back to the papers. “It messes with the fantasy they’ve built up in their head of having a relationship.” 

“What is he in jail for?” Morgan asked. He agreed with Gideon but still wanted to be absolutely sure Baker wasn’t their guy. 

“Um, possession of drugs. Other than that he’s clean. Almost too clean.” Garcia looked down at her paper. “If an entire sorority finds you creepy, that means you’ve done something but there’s nothing. His parents are very good at bribing the right people. The only reason why this charge seemed to stick is that he was arrested in Italy where they didn’t have the same amount of influence.” 

“So he’s in Italy right now?” 

She shook her head. “No, he was extradited to the US to finish out his sentence here. Sorry, but I don’t think it takes a profiler to see he’s not our guy.” 

Dammit, the one lead they had was completely dead. JJ and Elle were still trying to get in contact with the rest of the sorority and fraternity members but they were running into dead-ends everywhere. They were back at the beginning with absolutely nothing. 

“Thank you, Garcia,” Gideon said. “Keep looking into people who were at CalTech for Reid’s freshman year but were either arrested or deported midway through his sophomore year. Don’t leave anyone out. If they were employed or enrolled, I want them on a list.” 

“Yes sir. I’ll have something for you faster than you can say…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence with the same amount of joviality she normally held. She turned and nearly sprinted out the door. 

He should go after her and give her some sort of comfort, tell her that everything was going to be okay. They had solved cases with even less to go on. 

“Morgan,” Gideon said, stopping him from standing up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you organize your bookshelf when you were in college?” 

That was not the question he thought Gideon would ask. That wasn’t even in the top ten questions he thought Gideon would ask. 

“What?” 

“Baker was a student with Reid. He would have been eighteen or nineteen when this was all going on. When you were that age, did you organize your bookshelf?” 

He furrowed his brow, confused, but decided to play along. “Baker isn’t our unsub. He’s in jail and has been for the past two years.” 

“Humor me.” 

He slumped back and sighed. “Alright, no. I didn’t organize my bookshelf. I mean, they were kind of organized. I didn’t leave them on the floor or anything.”

“Taking someone’s coffee isn’t something a student would do.” 

“Not unless it was a prank.” Seriously, where was Gideon going with this? He stood up and walked over to one of the earlier letters and pulled it down. It had a photo of it. Reid, at a café, reading a book that was as big as he was. The photo itself was pretty clear which meant the unsub wasn’t trying to sneak it or hide his presence. 

“I’ve had doubts it was a student from the very beginning.” Gideon continued. “Everything our unsub does is almost paternal in a way that you don’t get with college kids who are away from home for the first time.” 

Morgan nodded and started to pace. “Alright, so I’m an adult. Like, an adult, adult, not an eighteen-year-old who can’t even rent a car. Why would Reid trust me over his peers?” 

“They’re not his peers,” Gideon said. “They’re all much older than him. And being a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school means he’ll have trust issues towards his classmates.” 

Damn, if only Morgan could go back in time and punch every kid who thought it was cool to pick on the kid. Did anyone here have a happy childhood? 

“Also, I’m away from home for the first time. I’m probably scared and desperate for some sort of guidance and stability. So I turn to an adult who can act almost like a surrogate parent.” The unsub had to be a fairly normal part of campus life, someone who could blend into a library, campus café, or even a dorm room. He had to be someone who was trusted by the student body, who people didn’t see as a threat. Who Reid didn’t see as a threat. 

The profile hit Morgan like a sack of bricks. “What if it’s a professor he had for one of his first semester classes. He takes a class and latches onto this adult as someone to help him out. The professor doesn’t need to stalk him during the semester because he got to see him regularly for class.” 

“Maybe even more if Reid came in for office hours or something,” Gideon added. 

Morgan was shaking. This was what they needed. It fit, everything fit. “Then when he’s done with the class, and when he feels more comfortable on campus, he stops seeing this professor every day, triggering him into this pattern of stalking.” 

“It narrows down our potential suspect pool.” 

“And a professor being forced to move for whatever reason isn’t that uncommon. With tenure and research and whatnot, there’s a lot of reasons he could have lost contact with Reid until today.” Morgan stood up and rushed to the door. “I’ll let Garcia know. Hopefully, you’re right.” 

Finally, finally, they were getting somewhere. They were getting closer to ending this mess. Reid just had to hang on a bit longer. They were almost done. They were almost there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so close to the end, guys. It's all smooth sailing from here! I promise. Nothing bad will happen. Certainly not to Reid. Why would I ever do anything to hurt Reid?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: use of date-rape drugs, kidnapping, mentions of child abandonment
> 
> If I miss any of the big ones, let me know so I can update the tags and warnings accordingly.

Even when he was a child, Reid never had people constantly looking out for him. Sure, when he was very young, maybe like three-years-old or something, his mother and father would watch him to make sure everything was okay and he didn’t do something dangerous like stick a fork in a socket. However, after his dad left and as his mother’s condition worsened, he was left to his own devices more and more. He could practically run a household by age ten. By age eleven, he was regularly doing his mother’s taxes and paying the bills so they wouldn’t get kicked out of their home. Hell, by age twelve he had a thriving career as a tutor that practically paid the bills (mostly utility and grocery bills) whenever his mother was unable to. 

That is to say, Reid never had the pleasure of experiencing the constant stress of having someone constantly watch you. Like the team was doing now. 

They were taking shifts. 

It was currently Hotch’s shift. 

Reid felt like a kid in detention. At least, he thought he felt like a kid in detention, he had never actually been in detention before. He wasn’t allowed to go anywhere or do anything. He wasn’t allowed to work the case because technically he was the victim. He wasn’t allowed to even go down to the café across the street and get a half-decent cup of coffee. 

He had tried to argue with Hotch and Gideon that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, that he wasn’t in any danger. They refused. He was tired. Tired of sitting around and not being of any use. Tired of feeling scared and stressed. Tired of not feeling safe in his own home. Maybe if they let him actually help, they’d have this thing wrapped up by now. He was the one who knew the most about this! He was the one with first-hand knowledge! If he tried hard enough, he’d probably even come up with a name for them. But no, he was apparently a fragile child who couldn’t be trusted to tie his own shoes without someone watching to make sure he wouldn’t die. 

He felt trapped. He needed to get out. Just to get a coffee. Just to be alone for five minutes. That was it. That was all he wanted. 

There was a part of his brain, the rational part, that was telling him these were all signs of trauma. This was the result of a need for control when he was, in fact, a helpless victim. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him to sit still and stay calm. He was safe here with the team, with Morgan. His stalker wouldn’t be able to get into the building and hurt him. The moment he stepped outside, he would be vulnerable once more. He wasn’t taking control of the situation by leaving, he was making everything worse. 

Even as a genius, emotion still won out over logic. Hotch was on the phone, talking to Haley. He was probably apologizing for having to work late again. Just a few minutes. That’s all he needed was just a few minutes. 

Hotch was distracted. It was now or never. Reid took a deep breath, grabbed his bag, and made his way to the door. He was just going to go to the café across the street and grab a cup of coffee and come back. No one would ever notice he was missing. 

His heart pounded as he made his way to the elevator. Elle and JJ were in the bullpen, on the phone talking with former classmates. Morgan and Gideon were in the conference room, looking at the evidence once more. Garcia was in her cave, tracking down a number of potential suspects in ways that weren’t quite legal. It would just be a few minutes. 

Outside, the air was cool. It stung his lungs as if he hadn’t been outside in decades. The sun was bright. There were people out and about, a lot of people. It made him feel safer. Surely the unsub wouldn’t try anything with so many witnesses. 

_This is stupid. You’re stupid. It’s dangerous, go back inside._ The little voice in his head was screaming at him. 

No. He wasn’t a helpless victim. He was an FBI agent. He’d be able to protect himself. He had faced off against worse unsubs. He could handle some stalker. 

He crossed the street and continued to take deep breaths. He wasn’t in any danger. He was safe. There were lots of witnesses. He was an FBI agent. 

He entered the coffee shop. There were fewer people inside, but there were still people. The unsub wouldn’t try anything here. Too many witnesses. It would get too messy. Reid was safe. 

Somehow, he managed to tell the barista what he wanted, even if his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. 

“Spencer?” Someone called from behind him. “Is that you?” 

He turned around, heart pounding in his chest. Who had called his name? Who knew him in this coffee shop well enough to call him Spencer? 

He felt relief wash over his body as he saw one of his old professors standing in front of him. Professor Gruber, his first semester English Literature professor. When he had first gotten to Cal Tech, he had been overwhelmed by everything. Yes, he had been taking care of himself for years at this point, but the new place, new faces, and new routines had been tough, especially since his mother was barely functioning at this point. 

“Professor Gruber, it’s so good to see you again.” It felt nice to pretend, just for a moment, that none of this was real. None of this was actually happening. 

“Yeah, it’s been a long time. How are you? How’s the FBI?” He gestured to a chair and Reid gratefully sat down. 

“Well, it’s been fine. A lot of cases and work.” Shoot, he forgot to grab some extra sugar packets. “Hang on, I need to grab some sugar.” 

“Whatever you need,” Professor Gruber smiled at him. 

Reid felt an uncomfortable twinge in the pit of his stomach. Even though he was talking with his old professor, someone who had been like another parental figure in college, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Maybe it was just because he was technically not supposed to be down here. But surely ten minutes couldn’t hurt anything. Besides, maybe he could ask Professor Gruber questions that might lead them to the unsub.

“What have you been up to? I don’t remember seeing you around campus much after my second semester,” Reid said. 

Professor Gruber shrugged. “You know how it is. Tenure, academia, politics. I found a position I thought better suited my needs. Besides, Cal Tech was never a good fit for me, too science and math-focused.” 

“So, you went to an art college?” The coffee tasted funny. It was almost salty. Maybe he should ask the barista for another cup.

“Yeah. I found a great college overseas. It all happened quite suddenly. I don’t feel bad though, if Cal Tech really wanted to keep me, they’d do more for me.” There was a bitterness in his voice that Reid couldn’t quite place. 

His vision was starting to go fuzzy and he was having trouble concentrating. Alarm bells were screaming in his head, questions were swirling as he tried to make sense of the situation. 

“Wait,” he managed to slur, “how’d you know I was in the FBI?” He should get out of here; he had to get out of here. Something was wrong. 

“I read about it in the paper. You don’t think I didn’t keep tabs on my favorite student.” 

“Favorite student? I only had you for one semester.” He was trying to stand up, but his legs didn’t want to cooperate. He couldn’t even get them to twitch. 

“Spencer, are you feeling okay?” Professor Gruber put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. “Here, let’s get you out of here.” 

“I need…” what did he need? “I need…” Why couldn’t he talk? Why couldn’t he breathe? 

Professor Gruber’s hand was on his arm and pulling him to his feet. Now his legs wanted to move, but only like Professor Gruber wanted them to. 

Something had happened to him. His mind was fuzzy. His vision wasn’t working. Everything seemed faded and far away. He couldn’t even fight as Professor Gruber led him to a car, put him in the front seat, and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me writing this story "God, why is Reid making such bad decisions. Oh right, I'm the author". Happens to the best of us. Only 2 more chapters! Will they save Reid in time? Will Reid finally learn to trust others? Will I actually post on a regular basis and not once every three months? Stay tuned to find out!


	8. Chapter 8

Gideon knocked on the door to Hotch’s office. “We have a lead,” he said, sounding almost out of breath. 

Hotch said goodbye to Haley and put down the phone. “Who?” 

“A professor, one of his first semester professors, probably teaching an elective or core class that didn’t relate to his major. Garcia is checking records now.” 

“Good work,” he said. 

Gideon glanced around the room. “Where is Reid?” he asked. 

Hotch looked around as if this was the first time he noticed Reid was missing. 

"Shit," he cursed. "I didn't realize he was gone." 

The comment made Gideon's blood boil. Hotch had one job, to make sure Reid didn't do anything stupid like leave the building when he had a dangerous and escalating stalker. Still, he forced himself to be calm. Getting angry now would do them no good. 

"Let's get the team together, figure out where he's at. Gruber was probably watching him and took his chance the moment Reid was alone." 

"You don't think Reid would go with him?" 

Gideon shook his head. "Probably not willingly, but he probably didn't realize he was the stalker, which means that if they did 'bump' into each other, Reid wouldn't realize it and let his guard down." 

They called everyone into the conference room and delivered the profile. Gideon was trying his best to ignore the murderous looks Morgan was sending Hotch's way, but he couldn't pretend like he wasn't angry as well. He was angry at Hotch, but he was also angry at himself. He knew Reid hated how the team was treating him during the case. He knew he was getting antsy and desperate. Gideon knew Reid would try and slip away from them eventually, convinced that the danger wasn't as real as it was. He should have known better and prepared better. He should have done a better job, but he didn't. And now, Reid was god knows where with a crazy stalker.

He could only hope that Reid was smart enough to keep Gruber happy until they got there. 

oOoOoOo

The first thing Reid noticed when he woke up, was that he was sitting in a chair, his head slumped forward, causing his neck to ache. 

It took him a moment to figure out what had happened, and why he had fallen asleep in a chair. Then it came rushing back to him, hitting him with the full force of a realization. 

He did his best to keep still and his breathing even, just in case Professor Gruber was in the room with him. He didn't want to give away that he was awake until he got his bearings. 

Professor Gruber had drugged him, probably with some form of the date rape drug. Reid had left to go get coffee at the little cafe that was just across the street from the office. He thought a quick trip would be safe. He hated himself for getting into this situation. If he had just listened to Hotch and Morgan, just taken this whole thing a bit more seriously, maybe he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. 

He took a deep breath in, trying to get his anxiety under control. The team was smart and good at what they did. They would find him, especially if they went to talk to the barista. Surely the barista heard him call Professor Gruber by his name? Surely they could figure out that it was this man who had taken him? 

Then again, even if they figured it out, there was no telling where Reid was or how easy it would be to track him. This might be a trailer out in the middle of the woods with no connection to Gruber. This might be beyond Garcia's hacking abilities. 

Another deep breath. No, they had found people with barely a paper trail. Everyone had some way of tracking them. It was kind of terrifying if you thought about it long enough. 

The drug continued to wear off and he started thinking a bit more clearly. Right now, the most important thing to do would be to play along with Gruber's sick fantasy. It would help keep him calm and Reid alive. At least there wasn't anything to suggest that Gruber wanted anything other than a familial relationship with him. God, Reid was disgusted to even be relieved by that. 

He swallowed and opened his eyes just a crack, hoping to see around the room. Except, he wore his glasses today, and they were currently nowhere on his face. His own feet were nothing more than two, blurry blobs at the end of his blurry legs. Well, he could either continue to pretend to be asleep or wake up and hope Gruber grabbed his glasses and gave them to him. 

He took another deep breath, and opened his eyes fully, looking around the dark room to see if there was another person anywhere in the cabin. 

There wasn't. Just him tied to a chair like a damsel in distress. 

He didn't want to call out to Gruber, let him know that he was awake. Instead, he swallowed and started trying to get his hand out of the rope. It was tight, but he managed to wiggle around enough to get it to slip out. 

He sighed with relief. If he was lucky, he'd be able to get the rest of the ropes undone and then sneak out the window before Gruber came back and realized he was awake. 

He reached for the other hand when the door opened. He quickly put his hand back under the ropes, barely getting the knuckles through, but hopefully, it would be enough to fool Gruber. 

"You're awake." Gruber's voice was calm, almost kind. 

Reid squinted at the man-shaped blob in the door, surrounded by light. 

"Yeah. Um, can you get me my glasses, please? I can't see anything." He forced himself to laugh as if this was a perfectly natural occurrence. 

"Oh, of course," he said, closing the door and blending in with the dark cabin walls. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I forgot how much you needed them." 

The way he said his name made Reid's skin crawl. He wanted out of here. He wanted to be back home with his books. He wanted this whole thing, this thing that had been haunting him for years, to just go away forever. 

The blob came closer and glasses were stuck on Reid's face, stabbing him in the ear. 

"Whoops, sorry about that," Gruber chuckled as he set the glasses right. 

"No problem. Thanks," Reid said. His heart was pounding a mile a minute. He didn't know if he would say something to set off Gruber. Instead, he decided to look around at the now clear cabin. 

It looked like your traditional log cabin, so they were probably somewhere in the woods. The time it took for the body to get rid of date rape drugs varied depending on the type, dosage, and the person's metabolism so it could be they were less than thirty minutes from the BAU, or it could be that they were several hours away. Reid hoped it was the former. There was a lot of forested area in the Eastern part of the United States. It would be very easy for someone to build a cabin in the middle of the woods and never been seen or heard from again. 

"This is a nice place," Reid said. He had to keep calm. He had to make Gruber think he wanted to be here. "It's very quiet. Sometimes, it's too loud where I live, and I can't concentrate on reading." A complete lie. When given the chance, he could read with a jet engine roaring in his ear and could block it out completely. 

Gruber grinned. "I'm glad you liked it." He turned and walked to a small stove in the corner. "I didn't like that apartment you lived in. Too close to a major road, too far from nature, not enough space. I think you'll really like it out here, Spencer." 

Reid bit his lip and nodded. "I agree. I'm glad you came and picked me up. Even if you gave me step by step directions to this place, I doubt I would have found it. I've always been bad with directions." 

"I know. I also didn't want to risk those people getting in the way." 

"People?" Reid furrowed his brow. He didn't want to change the conversation. He wanted to get Gruber to tell him where the hell he was at so that he could figure out a way to escape. 

"The ones you work with!" Gruber spat. "They were trying to keep us apart, Spencer. They were trying to keep us from being together. They're awful, all of them. Especially that Derek Morgan. I can't believe he took you away from your home just because he didn't like me." 

Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted to say something to defend his team but held his tongue. He couldn't anger Gruber. He couldn't make this person angry. "I kept telling them it was no big deal, that I wasn't in any danger." True, but that was because he was an idiot. 

"I know, I know. It's not your fault." Gruber came back over with a cup of tea and a book. Reid wondered how he was going to drink the tea and read the book when his hands were tied. But Gruber sat down in an armchair opposite and flipped it open. 

"How about I read some passages from your favorite book, Paradise Lost." 

Reid did not like Paradise Lost. In fact, he hated the book and it was one of the only times he remembered not wanting to do his homework. 

"Sounds good," he said. 

Gruber lit up and opened the book to the first page. 

Reid didn't think his day could get any worse, but he was stiff, sore. His neck hurt and his head hurt. He didn't know where he was at and he was forced to play house with this unhinged man. To top it all off, he was forced to listen to a book he didn't like being read by a man who was not good at reading out loud. He couldn't move. He couldn't escape. He was trapped, waiting, and hoping that his team would be able to find him before he messed up before he made Gruber mad. 

That was always the problem with stalkers. Eventually, you mess up. Eventually, you aren't perfect. Eventually, they kill you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates. Life sucks. Everything's on fire. Please vote if you're in America (and if you're not in America, also please vote when your country has an election).


	9. Chapter 9

Morgan was beyond pissed. Hotch had one job, literally, and he didn't even manage to do that correctly! There was a small part of his mind that reminded him that Reid was equally to blame here. He knew the risks. He knew he shouldn't be leaving without someone with him to make sure he was safe, and yet he did it anyway. 

At the same, he also knew that Reid was in a very vulnerable and scared position. He knew what it felt like to have all your power stripped from you. He knew how difficult it was to think rationally when you were a mess emotionally. So, while he was angry at Reid for not listening, he couldn't blame the kid too much.

He could, however, blame Hotch. The man was a veteran. Hell, he was pretty sure the man had been working in the FBI longer than Reid had been alive. He had dealt with stalking cases before. He had dealt with victims before. He should have known better than to trust Reid not to do something so stupid!

Was Morgan the only one who seemed to understand that book-smarts don’t equal street smarts? 

The team was all in the break room, waiting for Garcia to give them something. The barista didn’t have much to go on other than what they already knew. Reid went down to the coffee shop, ran into Gruber, and then left. It sounded like he drugged him from her description, even though at the time she just figured he was sick or something. 

Morgan was doing his best not to look at Hotch. Now was not the time to get into a shouting match with the man and he desperately needed to keep a cool head. 

Garcia was fast. Garcia was good at what she did. She could find anyone anywhere in the world, even if they were off the grid. Sometimes, her abilities bordered on the fantastical and scared Morgan slightly (how much could someone find out about him if they were on Garcia’s level?). But he trusted her; trusted her to figure out where Reid was and give them everything they needed to bring him home safely. 

Speak of the devil, Garcia rushed into the room, hair messy, make-up smudged, with only about half of her normal glittery accessories on her person. 

“His sister’s got a cabin in Maryland. I’ve sent you the address on your phone and will tell you the rest on your way up.” 

That was all it took for everyone to leap up and rush to their cars. Morgan would not let anything happen to Reid. He couldn’t let anything happen to Reid. He had to trust that they would get there in time. 

oOoOoOo

The FBI had a course on torture. It was Reid’s least favorite course, but it was required so that agents would be made aware of what depraved things might happen to them if they ended up in enemy hands. 

He would never be able to forget the horrific things he read about. The removal of limbs. The drugs. The psychological torture didn’t leave a mark. 

He knew what torture, real torture was. He knew that listening to Gruber read _Paradise Lost_ for the better part of two hours did not technically count as torture, especially since the result was not to hurt Reid, but rather to get closer to him. Still, if there was one thing that could probably break him, it was _Paradise Lost_ being read in a nasally, scratchy voice. 

Thankfully, though, Gruber finally stopped. He instead decided to start fixing himself some dinner. Reid was thirsty and hungry. His stomach was starting to cramp and his lips felt glued together. He didn’t dare ask for food, not when he couldn’t be sure what was in it. 

“Why did you leave CalTech?” he asked. 

Gruber froze.

“I came back after spring break, and you were gone. No one told us what happened.” He continued. “There were rumors, of course. But you know I don’t like listening to rumors.” 

Gruber turned to him and nodded. “As well as you should.” He sighed and sat down on the chair, his face looking more tired and older now. 

Reid was worried he wouldn’t answer, just sit there staring at the wall. 

Finally, he spoke. “If you must know, I went to the Philippines over spring break. While I was there, I was arrested and thrown into jail.” He glanced over at him. “You know how those people are, Spencer.” 

“How… how Filipinos are?” He was confused. While he did know a few Filipinos in school, he wasn’t sure if he knew enough to make a snap judgment on an entire group of people. Even if he knew hundreds of Filipinos, he probably shouldn’t be making snap judgments on the entire group anyway. 

“Yes. I made a mistake and they punished me harshly for it. It was unfair. I didn’t deserve to be in that jail for ten years!” He slammed a fist on the table, causing Reid to jump. 

Since he was currently tied to a chair in the cabin of a man who had stalked him when he was twelve, he had a feeling that Gruber did deserve to be in jail for ten years. He wasn’t stable and clearly showed how little he cared for others. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He just sat there and let Gruber rant. 

“Finally my sister was able to get me extradited to the US. But I missed so much of you growing up.” He stood up sharply, tipping the chair back, and started to pace, running a hand through his hair. 

“It took me so long to track you down. Of course, I had known you joined the FBI almost as soon as I came back. That was easy enough, but figuring out where you were, where you lived. DC is such a big city.” 

Reid nodded, glad he hadn’t run into Gruber immediately after he got back from the Philippines. Now he had friends, people he could count on, people who wanted to help him out. He had Morgan, Gideon, Garcia, Elle, JJ, and even Hotch. If this had happened when he first joined the BAU, he probably would have tried to deal with it himself. Then who knows if anyone would find him. 

_Who knows if anyone would even look for you_ His mind supplied. No, no. They would look for him. Even if they didn’t necessarily like him. They wouldn’t let an FBI agent go missing and not attempt to find him. It’s just… if he hadn’t trusted Morgan that night the note showed up, he might have been taken much sooner and the team likely wouldn’t have as many leads as they did now. 

Gruber was still pacing around the room, muttering under his breath. He stayed still and didn’t press any further. He didn’t want to set the man off. 

Gruber let out a roar and flipped the table over, scattering books, plates, and papers all over the floor. Reid bit his tongue and looked down at the mess. He should have never asked. He should have kept his mouth shut and played house like he originally planned. 

Thankfully, Gruber didn’t continue his tantrum, instead stomping to the door and leaving the cabin, slamming the door so hard, it shook the walls. 

Reid waited a few minutes to see if he would come back. When he was certain he was alone, he shimmied his one free hand out of the ropes and got to work picking at the knots. There was a small window in the kitchen he could get out of and then make a run for it. He had no idea where he was at, but he wasn’t going to stay here. 

His ears strained to hear Gruber coming back to the cabin. His hands shook as he tried to undo the knots. He was sweating and his heart was beating. 

He freed his left hand. Now he just had to do his feet, then he would be free. He could leave this nightmare. He just had to untie his feet. 

He heard movement outside. He had to make a choice. He could either try and hide the fact that he had untied his hands, or try to get his feet untied and escape. He had to make a choice. He had to figure out what to do. 

oOoOoOo

Morgan wasn’t entirely sure, but he had a feeling several laws of physics were being broken as he sped through the Maryland countryside. Elle was on the phone with Garcia, getting more information on Gruber. 

“So, it looks like about ten years ago Gruber was caught sneaking some pretty heavy drugs into the Philippines and was immediately arrested and jailed.” 

“Christ, he really tried to smuggle drugs into the Philippines? How stupid is this guy?” Elle said, rolling her eyes. 

“Apparently pretty stupid because his sister managed to get him released back to the US last year and the first thing he does is stalk and kidnap an FBI agent,” Garcia continued. 

Morgan gripped the steering wheel, trying to focus on the road and not the blind panic coursing through his veins. 

“Great, so he’s a narcissist on top of being a stalker,” Elle said, shaking her head. “Anything else for us, Garcia?” 

“Nope, that is everything. Bring back our boy wonder safe and sound.” The phone clicked and they were back to sitting in silence, only the sirens and the rush of wind accompanying them 

“Hey, Reid’s smart. He’ll keep himself alive until we get there,” Elle said. 

“Not smart enough if he thinks going to get coffee by himself is a good idea,” Morgan growled. 

“He made a mistake. It happens to the best of us. We all think we’re invincible until we aren’t.” 

“I know,” Morgan said, turning his attention back to the road. 

They reached the site of the cabin. It looked straight out of a horror movie, dirty and run down. Morgan didn’t believe in ghosts, but by God was that cabin, not a good omen for getting Reid out of this mess alive. 

Hotch and Gideon pulled in behind them and got out, everyone had their guns drawn. 

“Morgan, Elle,” Gideon said, “go to the cabin and clear it. Hotch and I will go around back and look for any signs of Gruber.” 

They nodded and split off, crouched close to the ground, ears straining to hear anything. He had done raids before. He had done rescues before. Somehow, though, this was different. This felt like higher stakes. It was possibly because he knew Reid, liked the kid and had tried to keep him safe. Still, he couldn’t afford to lose his head, not now. 

They were now at the cabin door. Elle peeked inside a window. 

“One room, I don’t see Reid,” she said. 

Morgan nodded. “Gruber?” 

Elle shook her head. “There might be other rooms.” 

“Okay, on three.” Morgan stood back and kicked down the door. “FBI!” He shouted only to feel something heavy crashing into his back and knocking him to the floor. 

oOoOoOo

Gideon saw Gruber down the trail, pacing, and mumbling under his breath. He had faith that Reid would be able to keep him calm long enough for them to get here, but he had been wrong before. What if Gruber was more unhinged than they previously thought? What if he had already killed Reid? Gideon couldn’t afford to let another person he cared about die under his watch, especially since he was the reason Reid got into the academy in the first place. It was times like these that made him feel guilty. The kid could have been a professor doing amazing research in some esteemed University. Instead, he was possibly dead in a shack in the middle of nowhere. 

It was only the fact that Gruber had been stalking him before he had even met Gideon that gave him some reprieve from the guilt. 

He looked towards Hotch who nodded and snuck up closer to the man. 

“FBI!” Gideon shouted, standing up and aiming at Gruber. 

Gruber seemed startled at their sudden appearance, but only momentarily before his face morphed into a mask of pure rage. 

“You won’t keep me from him again! I won’t let you!” He charged towards Gideon, only the be tackled to the ground by Hotch. 

“You’re not getting out of jail this time,” he snarled, cuffing the man. 

“Good job,” Gideon said, still keeping his gun trained on him. 

“Thanks. Let’s get back to Morgan and see if they found Reid.”

oOoOoOo

“Reid, you’re alive!” Elle said before wrapping him in a tight hug. 

Reid was busy staring at Morgan who was moaning on the floor. “Morgan, are you alright?” He asked tentatively. He had thought it was Gruber at the door and decided to attack him. He was extremely lucky Elle hadn’t shot him after he smashed a chair against Morgan’s head. 

“No, I’m not alright, man. You fucking bashed my head in with a chair!” He said, still getting up to his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“I thought you were Gruber! I was trying to get out of here.” Reid said, relieved that his weak noodle arms hadn’t done the damage he had intended. The chair was heavier than he thought and it slipped from his hands mid-swing. Not only that, but he was pretty sure he pulled a muscle in his back trying to get the stupid thing up and over his head. 

Morgan glared at him, but there was no bite to it. “Are you okay man?” 

“I’m fine. Just a little shaken.” 

Morgan seemed relieved by that. Reid was relieved too. He never had people he could count on before. Even before his mom got bad, he was constantly on his own. Constantly trying to be as independent as possible. It was always just himself. But now, with his team, his friends, he had people he could turn to when he needed help. He had people he could count on. 

It was such a strange feeling, knowing that he wasn’t alone and that he didn’t have to things alone. He doubted he would ever get used to it. But maybe now that he knew, he could work on trusting others just a bit more. 

“Elle, you’re driving back,” Morgan said, still rubbing his head. “I can’t believe you threw a chair at me.”

“I didn’t know how long it was going to take you to get here,” Reid protested. “Did you just want me to sit quietly and wait?” 

“Yeah, kind of. That’s what they tell you to do!” 

“They do not!” Reid said, feeling relaxed for the first time in years. Even though Gruber disappeared all those years ago, he never could quite sleep soundly at night, always afraid his stalker would pop up again. Now that he saw him sitting in the back of Gideon and Hotch’s SUV, things felt safer, better. He knew for certain that Gruber wasn’t going to be getting out of prison this time. He was certain that he was safe for him. And he was certain that if he did ever get out, he had friends that could actually help keep him safe. 

It was a great feeling to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It's done! Thanks for being patient with me as I wrote this fic. I really liked it and had a lot of fun trying to balance writing style with TV style. I'm glad everyone seemed to like it and I hope y'all have a great weekend.


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